


breathe into me and make me real

by intertwiningwords



Category: To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
Genre: Aged up characters, Dill Goes Back To Maycomb, First Kiss, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period Typical Attitudes, Queer Dill Harris, Queer Jem Finch, Questioning Sexuality, jem is like 15 and dill is 13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:01:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23914231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intertwiningwords/pseuds/intertwiningwords
Summary: jem is always acting tough, like he has something to hide. dill is much softer and sweeter, and jem envies it.
Relationships: Jem Finch/Dill Harris
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	breathe into me and make me real

**Author's Note:**

> i saw tkam on broadway a few months ago before all the quarantine stuff happened and i've been thinking about nick and taylor's performances literally non-stop since. the gay vibes were *chef's kiss*. enjoy!!

_ “This is the power of a kiss: It does not have the power to kill you. But it has the power to bring you to life.” _

**― David Levithan, Two Boys Kissing**

Jem was always trying to act tough.

At first, it was just the normal childhood chivalry that came in a young boy, overeager to be a man and join the world that would surely taint his innocence.

Then, Atticus wondered if he acted so tough to measure up to Scout. To be outshone by his little sister in fighting would be humiliating to a little boy, no matter how much his father preached equality to him. Masculinity was something fragile, and Atticus would be lying if he said he’d gone through life without his own bruised.

And then, Dill came along and swept Jem up, his first real friend, someone to play with who wasn’t his sister, someone to wrestle with, and since Dill was so tiny, always win against, and to play pretend how  _ he _ wanted to, not with Scout making up some dumb story where the damsel in distress saves herself.

Dill was fun. He was energetic, almost too energetic for his own good, and talkative, and he always kept Jem amused, and on his toes.

“You know, my dad always says that—”

Dill could rattle on and on about his dad for days. To be honest, Jem didn’t always listen to those words of wisdom he had to say.

“Jem? Are you listening?”

“Huh?”

Frowning, Dill crossed his arms. “You weren’t listening to a word I said, were you?”

He grinned sheepishly. “No, I wasn’t. I’m listening now, though, if you want to repeat it.”

“I already forgot what I said,” Dill admitted, his own smile spreading across his face, shyly. “So it must not have been too important.”

Jem clapped him on the back. “Hey, I think everything you’ve got to say is important. Sometimes my mind just wanders and I don’t catch it, but that doesn’t make it any less important.”

Dill’s ears turned pink as he smiled directly at Jem, their eyes locking. “Thanks, Jem,” he said, bumping their shoulders together.

And although he wasn’t sure why, Jem felt his own face flushing at the touch.

Maybe he was always acting so tough because he didn’t feel tough. He didn’t do it because of his masculine pride; he did it to feel more masculine because he was afraid that there were soft parts to him, parts that made him unlike any other boy in Maycomb, and he was terrified of those parts.

He liked sports, especially football, and he was strong, even for his age, and he was pretty damn tough too; it wasn’t  _ all  _ fake. But he also knew that he liked Dill, and not in the way the boys at school liked their friends, and it was an entirely different kind of  _ like _ than how he felt towards Scout. It was the kind of  _ like _ that Atticus talked about whenever they talked about momma.

And even at such a young age, Jem knew what happened to boys like that. And so, he hid it, and he thought that he hid it pretty damn well, too, but his stupid nosy sister was too smart for her own damn good.

“You don’t like when Dill talks about marryin’ me,” Scout said matter-of-factly.

“You’re my little sister. I’m not supposed to like the thought of anyone marryin’ you.”

She scoffed. “You don’t give a damn what I do, s’ long as I’m not gettin’ into trouble. And I reckon marryin’ Dill when we’re old won’t be any trouble.”

“You’re too young to think about gettin’ married, Scout.”

“Do you think about it?”

He huffed. “I reckon that’s none of your business.”

But she was stubborn, and Jem knew that all too well. Pouting, crossing her arms, she argued, like she always did. “What’s so bad about Dill and me?”

“Nothin’s bad about it, I guess. I just don’t like it.”

“Well, why not?”

_ Because I wish that  _ I _ could marry him _ , Jem thought, and it was the first time he’d admitted that to himself, and the revelation almost sent tears spilling down his face just then. But he wouldn’t let that happen. He screwed his face up all tough-like and stood up straight. “Because y’all are too young to go makin’ plans like that. Even though I’m older, I don’t go around plannin’ to marry anyone. You don’t know that stuff until you’re older anyway. Atticus didn’t meet Ma until he was in law school, you’ve got a long way to go.”

The answer seemed to satisfy her, and she skipped away and into the house, probably to bother Atticus with questions about marriage or something, and Jem was grateful to be left alone.

And because there was no one around to see, he let a few tears fall down his face, just for a moment, before he sniffled and wiped his cheeks on his hands, and put on a brave face to go wash up for supper.

***

Dill was over for dinner, as he was most nights, and his chair was squished between Jem and Scout’s own seats, and his legs were too short to fully reach the floor, leaving his feet dangling.

Jem was acting stiffer than usual, his eyes fixed on his plate, and he didn’t laugh at Scout’s jokes like he usually did. Atticus talked about his work at the courthouse as he usually did, recalling his day and trying to sprinkle in bits of wisdom amongst the mediocre.

Dill poked Jem’s leg with his toe. “You okay?” he mouthed.

Jem nodded, giving him a small smile.

When he looked away from Dill, he met Atticus’ eye and flushed. He hunched his shoulders and stared at his lap, shame burning his face.

Atticus didn’t call the boys out on whispering, although Jem had expected him to. Maybe he could sense the secrecy that Jem wanted to keep in that moment, and, for once, stayed quiet.

Jem wondered if he knew. Atticus was always too damn good at reading him, so he wouldn’t be surprised, but the thought terrified him.

His father was always preaching to love other people, and to understand them. Jem wasn’t necessarily afraid of what Atticus would think. Atticus would love him no matter what. It wasn’t about love. It was about the shame, and the fear, and the pain it would cause him to know his son wasn’t a  _ real man _ , that his life was going to be harder when he had tried so hard to give him everything.

In the one look across the dining table, it was like Jem could see the cogs in his father’s head turning, putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

“I’m not hungry,” Jem announced. “Can I be excused?”

And normally, Atticus would have said no, but he peered at Jem over his glasses and gave him a nod.

It took all his self-control to not go running out onto the porch, which would surely raise alarm. Trying to steady his breathing, he made his way to the swinging porch bench, taking a seat and listening to the familiar creak of the chains that held his weight, like the swings at the schoolyard where boys all talked about the girls they liked and it made Jem’s ears burn with embarrassment that he couldn’t relate one bit to what they said.

Tears began to form in his eyes, and he tried to bite them back, but he was  _ sick  _ of playing tough. He let them fall, and they were hot as they trailed down his cheeks.

Then, he heard footsteps coming closer on the rickety porch, and he wiped furiously at his face, knowing it would be no use; the redness of his eyes and tear tracks would give him away in seconds flat.

He expected to turn around and see Atticus, ready to comfort him with some bullshit words of wisdom, but instead—

“Dill?”

The shorter boy gave him a sheepish smile. “Atticus let me be excused to see if you were alright,” he explained. “And, no offense, Jem, but you don’t really look it.”

A small, humorless chuckle left his lips. “I’m fine, Dill, don’t worry about me.”

Dill took a seat next to him on the bench, the creaking sound growing louder as a new body was added, Dill’s legs still a little too short to fully put his feet on the floor. “I’ve been worried about you, though. You don’t seem like yourself. You’ve been all quiet, and  _ sad _ …”

“You and Scout been talkin’ about me behind my back?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Dill shook his head. “I dunno if Scout’s noticed it as much as me. And I’m not a gossip like my aunt, you know,” he grins, nudging Jem with his elbow.

It makes him laugh despite how he’d been crying just moments ago. Dill always found ways to make him smile, even when everything felt like it was falling to shit around him. “I know you’re nothin’ like that lady. You fit in much better here, with us Finches.”

That made Dill positively beam. “Ya think so?”

“I know so,” Jem replied sincerely.

They sat in content silence for just a moment, but Dill was never good at keeping his mouth shut, and so he was talking again before Jem could even appreciate the quiet of a Maycomb summer night.

“So, are you gonna tell me why you were crying?” he asked.

Jem shook his head. “It’s silly,” he lied.

“My dad says that nothin’ that upsets you is silly.”

“Do you ever feel.. _ different _ ? From other kids?”

“Course I do!” Dill replied, looking surprised that Jem would even think something like that. “I think most kids do.”

Dill’s shock wasn’t unexpected. His facade probably made it easy to believe he had no insecurities, but that was far from the case. Every day he was afraid that someone would find out, or that he wouldn’t be able to hide it any longer, or it wouldn’t go away like he prayed every night it would.

Jem only nodded. “That’s all that’s wrong, I guess. Feelin’ different.”

“Different how?”

“Like...there’s a part of you that you can’t change, and it’s something you wanna change so bad, you ask God to help you change it every damn night, but in the morning, it’s always there, in the back of your mind.”

Despite his best efforts, tears still started to fall down his face again as he spoke, and Dill took his hand, an innocent show of support, but it made Jem’s stomach churn like he was going to throw up. He couldn’t think of Dill like that, he was his  _ friend, _ and it was  _ wrong _ —

“I think I know exactly what you mean,” Dill said softly.

Jem looked up to meet his eyes, blinking as the tears blurred his vision. “Nah, you don’t.”

Dill scooted closer on the bench, thumb stroking softly over Jem’s knuckles. “Jem, I think I do.”

Looking around, the Maycomb street was empty, lights in houses already going out despite the early hour. Calpurnia, Scout, and Atticus were all nowhere to be seen, peeking through windows like they sometimes liked to do.

“You do?” he asked.

Dill nodded.

His heart racing, Jem did the stupidest but maybe bravest thing he’d done since facing Bob Ewell. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Dill’s, quickly, not daring to let it linger, lest he leave his eyes closed and not notice someone looking.

And Dill kissed back, just as quickly.

They pulled away, both flushed and nervous but suddenly smiling, each of them feeling a rush of adrenaline...A rush of  _ affection  _ and happiness coursing through them.

Then, Calpurnia’s voice called them back inside, and they ran to the door together, weights off both of their shoulders.

***

“Do you think it ever goes away?” Jem asked him the next day.

They were out in the field they usually played in, and Scout hadn’t come along for once, engrossed in a new book Atticus had given her, so for once, their ‘no girls allowed’ rule for once being obeyed.

“I don’t think so,” Dill said. “My dad says that feelings don’t go away if you don’t deal with them.”

Jem nodded almost solemnly. “D’you think Atticus knows?”

Dill chuckled softly. “What doesn’t Atticus know?”

And it made Jem laugh, too, because Dill was right, as he so often was when it came to observations like that. Ask him a question about math or spelling, and he might not have the right answer, but he was incredibly smart when it came to understanding people and things.

Jem was always trying to act tough, desperately hiding away, but Dill was soft, and sweet, and emotional. He wasn’t afraid to show his kindness, his feelings. And yet he was hiding the same secret, just hiding it differently.

Maybe Jem didn’t need to hide away behind brick walls and barbed wire. He could still be himself, the kinder sides of him that loved his sister, and cried, and loved Dill.

And maybe the feelings would never go away. Maybe he would grow up and still think about how it felt to kiss Dill on the porch bench every single day, remembering the creak of the chains and the summer air and maybe it will always be the most alive he has ever felt.

When Dill is gone, and they won’t see each other until next summer, Jem will remember. And when he’s old and grey and probably married to a woman he loves but not quite enough, he will remember.

He’ll remember the moment when he was so alive, and when he was truly  _ real _ .

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed, thank you for reading. if you liked this fic, please consider leaving me a kudos and/or comment to let me know!! feedback makes a writer's day :)


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